Nightmares
by J.Turenne
Summary: Jack's dreams go bad, he goes in for a chat... Post Double Agent, I guess.
1. Chapter 1

A/N-I know that this is weird, but it was one of those things that you just have to write or you'll explode (all you writers know what I'm talking about). It will get normal-er, I swear. I will try to update my other fics soon; I'm in the middle of three chapters from different fics and can't really make progress on any one.  
  
Disclaimer-Yeah, right. My I own Alias. Which explains why live in a dorm room that's never clean and survive on easy mac. Just keep on believing that, folks.  
  
Reviews-Do I even need to try to say how much your reviews mean to me? Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed my stuff in the past, and please, please, please keep writing them! I love you all.  
  
Nightmares  
  
  
  
It was, quite possibly, the strangest dream that he had ever had. It began with her. What in his life hadn't? There had been many, many points in his life when he had sworn to himself that his life had begun when he met her, and felt as though, when she left it, it had ended. It almost had. He squirmed still as he remembered that one terrible moment of weakness, back in solitary over twenty years ago. When the guards saw how much of his own blood he had managed to spill with the buckle on his own strait jacket, the entire CIA had rethought its policy on how to keep dangerous prisoners, especially the ones that they had trained themselves. Nobody still lived who had witnessed his narrowly-prevented suicide. It was yet another of Jack's many secrets.  
  
In the dream, though, he knew nothing of betraying wives, of KGB orders or years in solitude and pain. He knew only that Laura was standing in front of him, in their bedroom, with open arms. What would any other husband have done? He stepped forward to embrace her, when suddenly the floor beneath her vanished, leaving a gaping hole full of flame, and she, his beloved wife, was falling in. He rushed forward, grabbed her arms, tried harder than he'd ever tried at anything to drag her up again, but something beneath her was pulling even harder, dragging her down. She looked him in the eye, a look full of love and pain, but then a single tear rolled down her cheek, and as it fell, her face changed. The change was fairly subtle, but in an instant it transformed her from Laura, object of devotion, to a strange, dark woman. As the tear passed her lips, they were suddenly smirking. When the tear fell from her chin, she took one of her hands from his to catch it, and, turning her palm back down, pressed it to his skin. Suddenly, the spot where it had been was burning him, and soon everywhere else she touched him burned too. His grip was slipping, but he was determined to hang on. And she began to laugh.  
  
The moment she started to laugh, it came back to him. This wasn't Laura. It was Irina. Who had betrayed him. Who had abandoned him. Who had never loved him at all.  
  
She slipped from his grasp.  
  
But it didn't matter. He could finally see what was below her-every devil in hell, standing one on top of the other, an endless column supporting her. She laughed again, and he backed away. No, this couldn't be! Not Laura!  
  
And THEN things started to get bad.  
  
From the doorway came a tiny voice, innocent and sweet, followed by a form nearly as small. And there, clutching her teddy bear and obviously just awakened, was Sydney, her three year old eyes filled with wonder.  
  
"Mommy?" the voice asked, wounding Jack to the heart. Sydney began walking, as though magnetically drawn towards her mother and her passage into hell.  
  
"Sydney, no!" Jack begged, snatching the tiny girl, trying with all his might to stop her progress towards the quickly widening hole in the floor. But instantly his little daughter was growing. Four feet and twenty some years were added in moments, and suddenly it was a woman fighting to get to her mother instead of a toddler. Her foot collided with his side, and, winded, he dropped to the floor. Sydney, still an adult, kept walking towards Irina and destruction, and Jack, strangely unable to use his legs, dragged himself after her. Just as Irina managed to grab hold of one of Sydney's hands, Jack caught the other. The tug-of-war began, Sydney rocking back and forth, going very, very white. But Jack couldn't fight both Sydney and Irina, especially form this position. Sydney finally wrenched her arm from his grasp and grabbed hold of the arms of the woman in the pit. But the person that she was dragging out was not Irina or Laura either. It was someone between the two, with Irina's face and Laura's eyes, Irina's manner of dress and carriage and Laura's smile. She looked straight at Jack, her eyes boring holes into his. He stood and backed away, further and further from her.  
  
"Please, Jack," her voice was a pleading rasp, "I'm not what you think. I can be saved, even now. But even Sydney can't do it without you."  
  
He hesitated, emotions tearing him apart, unable to move or speak, just looking at her. She continued to beg him with her eyes, to plead for forgiveness and help. But he just wasn't ready, wasn't able to risk his heart again.  
  
She saw. "Coward," her voice was a whispered scream that cut him to the soul. With one last look at him, she let go of Sydney's hands and plunged into the flames.  
  
He had awoken then, bathed in sweat, full of confusion and pain. For the past five minutes he had simply sat, motionless. But he knew what he had to do, knew now what he had to end all of this. He had to know. Making his decision, he stepped out of bed, pulling clothing on as quickly as possible. Barely registering the fact that his clock read 2:47 AM, he grabbed his jacket and keys and made his way out of the house.  
  
Fifteen minutes later he was in the ops center, stalking through the sterile halls, empty but for the occasional security guard. Down, down, into the bowels of the building he walked, deep where no light was allowed to penetrate. The guards became fewer and sleepier. Finally he reached the gates that held her in, and the room with its wall of glass. He was surprised at first to see that she was sleeping. He had never seen her any less than perfectly aware of everything since she had returned; it had always been her waiting for him rather than visa-versa.  
  
"Irina," he called, softer and gentler than he had meant to. She didn't wake. "Irina," he said again, gruffer and more like his usual tone. This time she stirred, rolling over to wipe the grit from her eyes and yawn.  
  
"Jack?" She sat up, running a hand through her hair. "What are you doing here at this hour? Is something wrong?" She sat up and noticed the look on his face. Almost instantly she was out of bed, her bare feet padding lightly on the cold floor. She didn't say anything, just looked, studying his expression.  
  
His countenance betrayed his confusion, his bewilderment, his utterly unstrung state. He knew that this was the last place that he should be, the last person to whom he should display such weakness. But it didn't matter anymore. He had to have answers right now. He had waited long enough. There were so many things, so many questions, but he was sure that he would only get answers to one, if even that. So he chose the question that had been haunting him for twenty years, the one that had been ringing in his head since he first learned of her betrayal.  
  
He took a deep breath before beginning.  
  
"Irina..all those years ago, when we were..when you were Laura.." he choked slightly on the name that was responsible for so much good and bad, paused to gather his strength, then looked her directly in the eye. "When you were Laura, did you love me at all?"  
  
  
  
A/N: See that little button marked submit review? Click it! The next chapter should get up fairly fast (for me, anyway) because I already know pretty much where this is going. Also, completely unrelated to this fic- whatever happened to Ana Espinosa? Is she dead or what? 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is my fastest update ever; less than a week! I'm addicted to writing this story. I'm starting to write the next chapter before this one is even posted.  
  
Reviews: Tell me what I'm doing right. Better yet, tell me (constructively) what I'm doing wrong. Just tell me something! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. To you 'The Sweetest Thing" fans (if you're reading this), I apologize for the slow update time; I just can't get into a fluff mood, angst is really more my thing.  
  
Nightmares, Chapter 2  
  
Irina's mouth flew open and her eyes went wide. It wasn't often that she was caught off guard, but when it happened it happened in a big way. 'This can't be right,' her mind screamed at her, 'You're hallucinating. Jack Bristow is not standing outside your cell in the middle of the night asking you if you ever loved him. That's just crazy.' Ten seconds later, however, Jack was still there. Had they not been on opposite sides of the glass, she might have reached out to touch him, just to make sure that he existed. Then again, considering what he had just said, that might not have been wise.  
  
Had she ever loved him? She knew that she had felt something. She had never denied that she respected and liked him very much, that she enjoyed his company and that, every time he had told her how much he loved her, that she had gotten a goodly amount of pleasure along with her guilt. But she had never let herself call it love, never let herself ask the question that he had just put to her. And now Jack had forced it into her head, and he deserved a straight answer. She knew what that answer was.  
  
"Yes," she said simply. "I did love you, Jack. That much of our lives wasn't a lie."  
  
Jack wasn't sure if a 'no' would have hurt less or more. More, he decided, though this was bad enough. She had loved him after all, and he hadn't tried to go after her, to get her back. But then, she hadn't tried to stay..  
  
"Then why?" His voice was low, but his eyes stayed with hers.  
  
"Why did I leave?" He nodded. "I had to, Jack. You know that." It was a weak argument, they both saw that. But he was at the disadvantage here, not her. Despite the fact that she was the one in the cell, she wielded the power.  
  
Jack Bristow, however, was unaccustomed to not having the upper hand, and he needed answers. So he pressed. "No, I don't know that. When we were married, I would have flown to the ends of the earth for you in a second, would have trusted you unconditionally no matter what. But rather than stay to fight for us, you ran away."  
  
His words opened a hundred long-covered wounds, and the pain nearly overwhelmed her. But she needed him to understand as much as he needed to understand. "For me, Jack? No. For Laura. You loved and treasured Laura, not Irina. Do you know how hard that was, to have my own husband make love to me under someone else's name?"  
  
Jack was stunned. He could honestly say that he had never thought of it that way, never considered how hard it would be to have every human gesture meant for him directed instead at someone else. But he had no time to ponder, as her speech continued.  
  
She had lost control now, in a way that she hadn't done for years. But she didn't care. She had needed to say these things for so many years. "But even that wasn't my biggest concern. Supposing that I had told you everything, that I had come completely clean. You would have looked at me then just like you look at me now if I had told, would have shut me out to cover up your hurt, and I wouldn't have been strong enough to take it," she swallowed deeply, "You and Sydney were everything to me. The thought of you, and especially of her, staring at me like I was some freak stranger was..more than I could just tuck away. It was a matter of my sanity, and all of our safety. Do you think that the KGB would have just said, 'We're happy that you're happy, stay as long as you like?' No, Jack, they would have come after us all, but especially Sydney. She was so small, so innocent," Irina choked slightly as she considered what he daughter had become, "She would have been hurt, killed, or spent her whole life looking over her shoulder. I couldn't do that to her. You always doted on her so.." She considered how to say this without accusing him, but decided that he deserved it. She had showed too much of her weakness, she had to strike at him before he could use it against her. "I thought that wouldn't change when I left, that you would still understand how precious she was, how much she needed you. Apparently, that estimation was less than accurate."  
  
Rather than hardening, as she had expected, Jack's face betrayed his anger. "What was I supposed to do, exactly, Irina?! I had just been told that the love of my life had betrayed me, and then been thrown in solitary for six months to stew it over in my brain. My mental and emotional states were not at an all time high! I know that I should have been stronger for her, but. but I still hurt too much."  
  
The simplicity and truth of his words touched her, but angered her too. "You act as though you were the only person who got hurt because of us," she muttered, "I would think after Memphis, you would know better."  
  
"Memphis?" he questioned, genuinely puzzled.  
  
"Memphis, Egypt? That was. eighteen years ago, nearly nineteen now."  
  
Jack had no idea what she was getting at. He vaguely remembered a mission to Egypt around that time, but it had been mostly routine, as he recalled. "I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he admitted.  
  
She felt as if he had slapped her in the face. "You didn't recognize me, then? I was so sure that you would know." She was unwilling to tell him everything, but had to make sure that he knew. "Think hard, Jack. The mission was to retrieve a new prototype for a weapon of some sort; even I don't remember exactly what. But you were caught."  
  
Suddenly it all came flooding back to him.  
  
FLASHBACK  
  
The night was hot and sweaty and dank, and the heavy black gear wasn't helping in the least. Jack was completely alone on this mission, which was never comforting, but, in this case, shouldn't make much difference. The mission was straightforward, and the security team shouldn't be able to arrive before he got away. It was a case of grabbing what he needed (some sort of bomb? He didn't remember) and being ready to run.  
  
And he had done exactly that. Had gotten into the lab where the bomb was being developed, found the device, stuffed it into his bag and turned towards the door. But he was shocked to find a team, three people dressed like him but with masks, walk into the lab. 'Oh, shit,' Jack's brain had thrown at him, 'this is going to be harder than I thought.'  
  
But then something strange had happened. Two of the other agents had lunged at him, and he had countered, fighting desperately but he was powerless to defend himself two against one and losing ground fast. Suddenly, he heard a decisive crack and one of the agents crumpled. The other paused, confused, and Jack seized his chance to hit him hard, knocking him backwards. To Jack's chagrin, the second agent crashed through a window, instantly setting off a loud alarm. He looked over at the third agent, who was just staring at him. The agent (SHE, Jack thought back, though he hadn't noted it at the time) looked him straight in the eye and said, in heavily accented English, "Run, Jack."  
  
He had frozen. Who was this person and what was she setting him up for? But she had spoken again, "RUN, Jack, now!" He didn't have time to ponder any further and had simply obeyed, escaping just before the authorities arrived.  
  
END FLASHBACK  
  
In retrospect, Jack was stunned that he hadn't recognized her at the time. She had stood in full view, SPOKEN to him, had known his name, and it hadn't clicked. The accent and the combat gear had disguised her up to a point, but it still should have been obvious to him from the moment she had waked into the room.  
  
From behind the glass, Irina watched the mental pieces falling into place. She waited patiently for him to put it all together.  
  
Finally he spoke. "What did they do to you," he asked in a gravelly voice, fraught with confusion and hurt, "for..letting me go?"  
  
She winced, very slightly but enough for him to notice. "I already told you that I was once a prisoner of the KGB," she said simply, "I'm sure you know how.. inventive they could be." It wasn't said to try and make him feel guilty, but shame pressed upon him nonetheless. "They weren't happy when they found out that I had hurt a fellow agent to save one of the enemy."  
  
"No, I would imagine not," Jack's tone was heavy but not cold, sharing her pain rather than empty with hurt. He looked into her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me before?" "A few reasons, really. One, I thought that you already knew."  
  
Jack interrupted, "You thought that I would be so.." there were many words he considered inserting, but he settled for one that was simple but true, "suspicious of you if I had know that..that you went through all that just to save me?"  
  
"I saved your life in Kashmir; I could have escaped and left you and Sydney to die, but I didn't. And you never even said thank you."  
  
It was true, but he didn't want to admit it. "What were the other reasons?"  
  
She considered calling him on the sudden change of topic, but let it pass and answered. "The second reason was that you probably wouldn't have believed me."  
  
"And why would I be more likely to believe you now?"  
  
She gave him the all-knowing look that set everyone else in the world on edge. "Jack, it's three in the morning, and you just drove all the way here to ask me if I ever loved you. Right now, you WANT do believe me." She paused, her face softening slightly to make up for the harshness of her words. "I haven't asked why you chose NOW to ask that question."  
  
He almost refused to answer, but reminded himself that she had answered all of his questions unconditionally, and that he owed her this one, at least. Feeling less and less like the person he had become every second, he sighed and began.  
  
A/N: Do you all know what an elliptical is? Basically, it's the type of exercise machine upon which my laptop is precariously balanced as I run while I type. This is the only time that I have for writing! Despite the time difficulties, I will try my best to get the next chapter done ASAP. Review, Please! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N-As usual, I apologize for the long wait; see, my school owns my laptop, and they won't let us take them on break, so I was cut off from my computer for nearly ten days. Also, this isn't as long as I wanted it to be, but I've got a new story throwing itself madly at my brain, and my teachers give me more homework than should be legal.  
  
Disclaimer-Unfortunately, I can't create characters. I just steal them and put them in my little world. Consequently, I own nothing.  
  
Reviews-everybody who reviewed last time, YOU ROCK MY WORLD!!!!!!!!! Everybody who didn't, here's your chance! Reviews are better than Christmas presents, or A's on tests, or any of that junk. REVIEW, PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
"I had a dream about you," Jack said simply. Noting the quirk of her eyebrow, he quickly amended, "Not THAT kind of dream." He wondered what effect his next words would have. "Basically, you were Satan."  
  
She threw back her head and laughed. How very like him! Even his subconscious was joining in the fight to try to convince him that he hated her. It was the first time that she had laughed in a long time, and it took her a moment to get herself back under control. "I'm sorry, continue please," she said, the smile still lingering about her lips.  
  
It took him a moment to begin; her laugh had been too much like the laugh in his dream for his comfort, but then, what WAS comfortable when Irina got involved in things?  
  
"It was actually more you turning into Satan. I lost hope, but Sydney kept trying to change you back. She managed to get you halfway back to yourself, but you looked at me and said something to the effect of that you could still be saved, but not without my help. But I had tried before, and all that I got was a pair of burned hands. I just couldn't anymore. And you saw.." he realized at this point how involved he had gotten in the story, how pointedly she was watching him, and shook himself a bit. Still, he couldn't stop now. "..and you looked me in the eye, and said, "Coward," in this voice that.." in all five of the languages that he spoke, Jack could find no word to describe her voice just then. "And you just let yourself fall into hell." He finished, and studied her reaction.  
  
She was shaken, though not visibly, by the turn that his dream had taken. It was all so confusing. He believed that she could still be saved, but was unwilling to try? But then, what was this conversation about? If he truly didn't want to find the good side of her again, then why had he come and asked the one question sure to reveal her softer side? This, she realized, was what drew her to Jack Bristow. Everything he said to her was a challenge, not only literally, but also a challenge to her mind.  
  
She chose her words carefully, so that they would not appear cold but not vulnerable either. "So, when you came tonight, you wanted to know if it would have been worth it to try to save me," it was half statement, half question.  
  
It wasn't the question that Jack was expecting, but, then, when did Irina EVER do what he expected her to?  
  
"I suppose that I did," he admitted softly, more to himself than to her. "I don't know why I'm here, really," he said in a voice that was stronger but much less convincing.  
  
A small smile appeared on her lips. Smart as he was, Jack had never learned that there were two people that he simply couldn't lie to, at least not directly: her, and their daughter. Irina smiled a bit more at the thought of her daughter. What would Sydney think if she saw them now?  
  
She turned serious again, but he hadn't failed to notice her previous amusement. He wondered briefly what was going on inside that brain; he still considered her devious, despite her words earlier. He didn't have time to contemplate, however, as she was speaking again.  
  
"And do you think that I can?" Considering simply her words, he would have judged that she had the upper hand at that point. But the sudden flash of emotion in her voice, and the almost open look on her face, threw him off; she was being sincere, and it was uncanny, but wonderful at the same time.  
  
She was kicking herself mentally. She had meant for the words to be a simple question, albeit one that she very much wanted to hear his answer to. But as the words were leaving her mouth, she had suddenly realized what exactly she was saying, that this was, in essence, a plea for forgiveness. She was suddenly aware how desperately she needed him to say yes, and, expert at masking her feelings though she may have been, some hint of that desperation had leaked into her tone and into her face.  
  
Jack was overwhelmed completely by the many implications of her question. It had been one that he had sworn to himself deserved a 'no' answer so many times; he had told himself, her, and, well, anyone who cared, that he didn't feel that she could be forgiven. Yet, seeing the expression on her face, noting the aura of something resembling hope surrounding her, threw off his resolve. She looked so much like Laura at that moment, which should have only reminded him of the pain that she had caused. Instead, however, it convinced him that this side of her really did exist. He knew that face so well, knew every nuance, knew exactly what changed and how when she smiled. It had hurt so much to think that face, and the person behind it had never existed. But maybe they had, if in a somewhat different form. Had he been too blind to see that she had been the same woman all along? Was there a chance that all of the wrongs that Irina had done came from the same person who had done so much good as Laura? Did the distinction that he had been making between the two in his mind not really exist at all?  
  
"I still love you," he spoke the words without even realizing it. Her jaw dropped, and, noticing her reaction, he suddenly realized what he had just done. His eyes widened, and he almost tried to deny it, but he realized that nothing he said would sound convincing except the truth. "I tried to deny it for a long time, ever since you got here, and even before that. I told myself that you had never felt anything for me, that you had endured my love only because you had to. I told myself that, the first chance you got you would betray us all, me, Sydney, the CIA. I told myself that your only motives were to manipulate and twist to get what you wanted. But nothing worked." He was losing all control now, but he didn't care. He had started this, and he was going to finish it if it killed him. "In Kashmir, when we were in prison and you pressed the keys into my hand, something cracked. When you didn't just run, when you turned yourself back in, I couldn't just hate you anymore. I knew that you weren't all of the things that I had told myself that you were. I didn't know what to think, and that scared me. Your betrayal had hurt me so badly..I knew that I couldn't survive that again. Which is true; I can't. And if you are playing with my emotions now, I want you to have fair warning: it would kill me, just as surely and completely as a bullet in the heart."  
  
A/N-More as soon as possible, hopefully. 


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